


Four Days Late

by soraflye (flitterfly5)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Hospitalization, Illnesses, M/M, Misunderstandings, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterfly5/pseuds/soraflye
Summary: It’s been four days since Aiba was hospitalized for his pneumothorax in 2002, and still, MatsuJun hasn’t visited yet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I'm not associated with Arashi or JE in any way.
> 
> Posted a long time ago on LJ.

There weren't a lot of things in the world that Aiba Masaki could truly profess to _despise_ , but being stuck in a bed like this, with a plastic sensor around his finger 24 hours a day and nothing but coarse, sterile-smelling sheets to wake up to when the nurses came to round on him at the ungodly hour of five AM every morning certainly came close to qualifying.

He was only 19, after all, not even legal yet by Japanese standards, and while most of his old classmates were busy settling into their university dorms and complaining about the slop in the campus cafeterias, he had somehow managed to get himself caught up in a completely different whirlwind of confusion and stress.

_I bet Johnny-san is drafting my contract termination right this moment._

That thought made Aiba shiver, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

It couldn't be the end, he thought stubbornly. Not now, not when it still seemed as though it was only yesterday that they'd debuted.

Aiba could still remember everything so vividly: the pounding of his heart as he tried to find the best camera angle on that wobbly boat to mumble "We're going to rake up a storm in the world!" to, the embarrassing see-through jumpsuits their hectic staff had pushed into their hands backstage at TV Asahi, the quiet nod of satisfaction from Johnny-san in the background as he looked on with cigarette smoke rising steadily from his fingers, the open-mouthed wonder he shared with his bandmates as they all squeezed on one couch the next morning to watch the news list their first single as the chart-topping song of the week...

  
"It can't all be ending now," he murmured to himself sadly.

It was like he had been handed a dream that he never knew was possible, and inexplicably, he clung to it even in the subsequent ebb of their popularity. Because even though Ohno barely spoke and Sho was never around and trying to get Nino's eyes off his DS was like trying to pry a leech off a juicy well-nourished leg, Aiba's thin chest still glowed uncontrollably with a fuzzy warmth whenever he walked into the green room that they shared as _Arashi_. It was just so pleasant to have that sense of belonging, to have his own designated seat at the table, and to be told, over and over again, both publicly and privately, that "Arashi is _five_ people, and without all five, we wouldn't be Arashi."

Aiba liked how poetic that sounded. Like Arashi couldn't function without him or something. He smiled, running his hand over the slightly wrinkled card that he knew Sho had nagged the others into signing. He didn't open it, though. He didn't need to. The words from his band mates were already engraved in his memory.

Ohno had written the least, just two words: _Get well_. But he had made up for it with an elaborate doodle which made Aiba laugh out loud the first day of his stay, so Aiba didn’t mind. Coming up with things to say had never been their leader's strong suit; that sort of thing was best left to Sho, who, by the way, had written an entire _paragraph_ on the little card, which to Aiba was as good as full-blown essay. Nino had simply drawn an arrow to Sho's message and quipped: _What he said_.

Typical. Nino was actually just as talented with words as Sho was, but he never expended the effort if he could help it. Aiba tapped the grey plastic of his digital pulse monitor against the metal pole of his IV dispenser dully, wishing that Nino’s whiny voice would suddenly come out from behind his headboard with that familiar smack to the back of his neck.

Because Nino had always been the _tsundere_ , and Aiba was always the _boke_.

But contrary to popular belief, Aiba was not also an idiot. And he knew that his band mates could tell him as many poetic taglines as their awkward teenage lips could spout, it wouldn't change the fact that Johnny-san was still ultimately the one who had the power to decide whether the fledgling Arashi could afford to have a member in such delicate health.

Aiba shivered and touched the gauze that covered his surgical scar resentfully.

_If only I was stronger…_

His lip quivered at the thought, and the heat of swelling tears choked the bridge of his nose, causing him to emit a sharp, strangled gasp for breath.

"Hey!"

The voice was soft, and the sounds of movement barely perceptible, but Aiba looked up.

_MatsuJun._

His chocolate eyes followed the boy who had just entered the dreary hospital room. The fifth member of Arashi. And yes, Matsumoto Jun was still very much a _boy_ , no matter how hard he tried to act otherwise, with his insolently (fake) windswept hair and his new found penchant for finger blings and his eagerness for more chest-baring and hip-twisting elements to be added to their concert choreos. All that was undoubtedly picked up from a certain Sakurai Sho, and didn't Aiba know only too well how much their pathetically skinny baby member wanted to be the second Sakurai Sho.

_Not that I'm jealous or anything, of course. I just wish Jun would stop trying to be such a bad boy these days… I wish he would soften up a bit, like when he used to come to my room during the V6 concerts and giggle with me about which senpai we thought was hottest and which gravure model we’d want to lose our virginities to…_

He gave a sigh, and looked away as MatsuJun's heavy ring clanked sharply against the metal railing at the foot of the hospital bed. Surreptitiously, he snuck the envelope that was still in his lap down beneath his covers. He really didn’t want to have to deal with the stinging fact that Jun was the only member who had _not_ signed the card.

_He's always been the most ambitious, after all, and now I'm just dead weight._

Bitterly, Aiba wondered why Jun even bothered to come see him. Didn't the guy have a million _Gokusen_ filmings and promo events to go to? And that was on top of all their regular Arashi duties. They were just about to release a new single, too, and Aiba knew that Jun was perhaps more excited than anybody about it. It wasn't very often that Julie-san managed to get them a recording deal these days, after all.

_He should be busy practicing for M-ste, not wasting time here with me._

_I might not even be a part of Arashi anymore when I get out of here. I might not be as big a part in his life anymore._

That thought was depressing, and he could feel the heat of unfallen tears gather at the corners of his eyes.

"Hey," Jun said again, sounding concerned.

Aiba pretended to scratch his nose so he could force the tears back and hopefully Jun wouldn't notice anything, because Aiba knew (or at least wishfully believed) that despite his tough appearance, Arashi’s youngest member was still just that emotional little boy who used to cry at even the mildest of Nino’s sarcasms. And it would never do to have them _both_ getting worked up here in the ward, because their howling would just build and build and Jun would show up to his drama promotions all red and puffy-eyed and get scolded by the staff.

And it'd all be Aiba's fault for being such a sickly crybaby.

"Hey, _Aiba_!"

  
Jun grabbed his hand, but didn’t do anything else. If anything, he actually looked a little apprehensive to be touching Aiba at all, as if Aiba was some delicate doll that would shatter with a light prod or something.

Aiba hated that.

But he pasted a smile on his lips. He was Arashi’s sunshine, he had to remember that, and Arashi’s sunshine couldn’t stop glowing just because he’d been confined to a few days’ bed rest.

“MatsuJun!” His soft brown eyes brightened as he turned towards the younger boy. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

Jun sat awkwardly by the bed, the yellow streak in his bristly Sawada Shin-hair looking oddly bright as it caught the sterile white lights of the hospital ward. His whole ensemble, complete with the heavy chain necklace and the stone-washed ripped jeans, seemed laughably incongruous with the tender, almost romantic, way his body leaned towards his bedridden band mate.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” He fiddled with the large metal ring on his finger (what was it, a skull? Aiba shuddered at the image of those gaping eye sockets). “I was busy. Drama filming and CM’s and… you know how it is…”

Aiba nodded, taking care not to show how much it hurt him even though he knew that Jun was probably not getting more than four hours of sleep a night as it was. All the others had come at least once, and it wasn’t like their schedules were that much more lenient than MatsuJun’s, after all.

Out loud, Aiba always said the right things; he’d say thank you for visiting, you guys really didn’t have to come, you should get more rest while you can, say hi to Jun-kun for me, and tell him I’m fine, he doesn’t have to worry.

But in the innermost chambers of his heart, a long-burning ember of resentment had flared up during his lonely stay in this god-forsaken hospital, and it had everything to do with the person currently shifting his gangly weight into the lumpy white mattress they were both sitting on. Or rather, more like the prior, four-day-long _absence_ of this person from his bedside.

“You didn’t have to come today, either,” said Aiba, trying not to sound sulky. “You should have stayed home and gotten some sleep.”

“ _Bakayarou._ ” MatsuJun swept him that intentionally handsome under-the-lashes glance that he had been practicing so often these days, and leaned closer so that Aiba could see every perfectly plucked hair on his thick, intimidating eyebrows. “You think I’d just leave you here to be prodded and poked at by all those old men in white coats?”

“Well, you had no problem leaving me here for the past four days…” Aiba couldn’t help himself; there was definitely a hint of sullenness in his voice now. It was just that the smoother and more nonchalant Jun seemed, the more he felt that he didn’t like the new, grown-up Jun. He didn’t like his clothes or his hair or the way he walked everywhere with an air of cool swagger.

And most of all, he didn’t like the new Jun’s eyes and the way they often fixated on him, scrutinizing him, judging him, as if he was some sort of idle loiterer who had neither school nor dramas nor stage plays or promos to go to after their Arashi filming sessions, like some talentless idiot who couldn’t sing, couldn’t act, and couldn’t even go through a four minute choreography without messing up everyone’s formations.

 _Sometimes I wonder if he’s half-hoping that Johnny-san_ will _kick me out of Arashi._

He looked at Jun’s flawlessly made up face, and was a bit taken aback by how gentle those eyes had suddenly become when he looked into them up close.

“I’m sorry, Aiba-chan,” Jun said softly. “But I had to be at the jimusho every day after filming, and it wasn’t until today that Johnny-san finally agreed to let me go.”

“Johnny-san?” Aiba knew that Jun had always been one of the boss’ handpicked favorites, but even so, it was highly irregular for the old man to request his presence at the jimusho for four days in a row. “What did he want from you?”

Jun’s heavy features smoothened into a smile, and for a moment, he actually looked like that little boy of fourteen that Aiba used to giggle over gay pornos with again.

  
“Oh, _he_ wanted nothing, but his fifteen-year-old grand-niece demanded to be taken on fun dates and boat tours and to candlelit dinners _every_ single day. I’m exhausted!”

Aiba felt an unknown iciness grip his plummeting heart.

“Grand-niece?” he mouthed, barely able to voice himself. “You’re, um, you’re into _girls_?”

For some reason, that thought was highly, _highly_ distressing.

But Jun just laughed it off like it was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

“God _no_! They don’t even make my pubic hair twitch. Johnny-san was just making me hang out with her in return for a personal favor I asked of him.”

Aiba narrowed his eyes suspiciously. This was all beginning to sound a little sordid. Jun wasn’t whoring himself out for more side projects, was he? Because if that were the case-

“Oh do _relax_ , Aiba-chan!” Jun had evidently caught on to what he was thinking. “It’s nothing I’d be ashamed of, I promise.”

He stroked Aiba’s hand, and ran his eyes apologetically over the EKG wires that were coming out of Aiba’s thin hospital gown collar.

“I just had to go see him the very first day your hospitalization was announced, you see, because I was afraid he’d take away the most precious person in the world from me.”

All traces of sulky suspicion evaporated from Aiba’s face as he froze, heart pounding in disbelief.

_Did he just say… But he never showed any signs of it… Could he really mean…?_

“MatsuJun…”

_Seriously, how could he just slip something so important into the conversation without so much as a stutter or pause?_

Aiba gulped visibly as Jun leaned in to close the small distance between their lips.

“You didn’t _really_ think I’d let you get kicked out of Arashi, now did you?”

Stupidly, Aiba shook his head. Jun’s lips were so, _so_ close.

“You’re _my_ Aiba-chan,” said those lips, brushing warmly against Aiba’s own. “You’ve always been, ever since your first day at Johnny’s.”

Aiba whimpered a little as Jun probed him with an experimental bit of tongue.

“And from now on, you always will be.”

The machines around them beeped crazily as Aiba’s heart rate skyrocketed with the advent of Jun’s soft, possessive kisses.

_Maybe I could get used to this grown-up Jun, after all._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

END

 

_A/N: Just to clarify, when I say this is “based on a true story,” I only mean it in the sense that Aiba did have that episode of pneumothorax that required him to stay in the hospital for a few days in 2002 and that he did worry about whether he’d be allowed to stay in Arashi. The rest are all figments of my imagination. The timeline might be a little off, too, since I don’t exactly know when Jun actually had to do Gokusen promos or when Arashi first decided that they were going to release their Nice na Kokoroiki single, so this fic may not present the temporal relationship of these events accurately._


End file.
